


By a Difference of Gender

by Mythweaver



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Crush, Responsibility, commitments, on the lamb, to be a sage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-13
Updated: 2012-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-03 14:15:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,945
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/382226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mythweaver/pseuds/Mythweaver
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Palom finds himself a free man at last-but remaining free is a little more complicated than he realizes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	By a Difference of Gender

                Palom had been on the lamb for months. The instant he’d been cut loose from his tether at the Elder’s side, he was gone from Mysidia like a flaming arrow—dramatically _and_ speedily. But mostly dramatically.

                Porom had harassed and harangued him endlessly about his decision to leave, but he had made up his mind. His talents were wasted on the stodgy doctrines and practices of the academy. Besides, Porom had become desperately clingy over the past few years, and he understood why—she was being asked to take on more responsibilities to become what she was meant to, but feared, to be. A leader.

                He, on the other hand, was destined for other things, varied sights, sensational sounds—maybe even a little romance. Well, possibly not romance. He had already made a pass at half of Troia’s female population with little to no success, but he was both resilient and persistent. He would try again somewhere else, and second moon be damned, learn some brilliant new magic along the way.

                He had spent weeks in Troia, learning the ways of their culture and teaching magic to a young priestess named Leonara, before his wanderlust had gotten the better of him again. He had since slated visits to Mist and then Damcyan in his efforts to escape a lengthy commitment and experience more of the world. He could have accepted the offer of a ride in an airship, but he much preferred the walk. It gave him time to think, to ponder, and to practice.

                Days had passed as he wandered the old road from Troia’s capital city to the mountains north of Mist. It was a pleasant journey. The weather was warm, the sun was bright, and the forest canopy offered an ever-changing collection of sights and sounds perfect for his muse. He thought back to his teaching in Troia, wondering if Tellah had ever taken on any students during his long lifetime or if he had chosen to remain a lone wanderer. Palom liked the idea of never being trapped in any one place for too long, but he couldn’t help but wonder—was it a waste of his skills to never pass them along to anyone else?

                _Whoa, I’m too young to be thinking like this,_ he mentally backpedaled, kicking a loose pile of gravel out of his way.

                Duty and responsibility were Porom’s strengths, not his. And yet—he _did_ miss having her around. She was the voice of reason to his entrepreneurial spirit, and even though she was halfway across the world, he knew she was keeping tabs on him somehow. They were twins, after all.

                He could sense when her thoughts were directed his way; although, lately he hadn’t sensed her at all and that was—

                “Palom!” a voice quite literally severed his thoughts, and he jolted to a stop. His mind swam for an instant—it _couldn’t_ be Porom, that would just be too convenient, but then he realized where he was and turned around.

                A head of blonde side-swept hair bobbed up and down as the slight figure of Leonara came into view, running down the road to catch up to him.

                Palom felt the instantaneous urge to flee. It wasn’t that he disliked Leonara. She was adorable, enthusiastic, quick to learn, and just plain, well, _adorable_ to reuse the word. Unfortunately, she was also one other all-important thing: commitment.

                He stopped to wait for her, her teal and sea foam colored garments flapping about like leaf fronds in her wake. She was out of breath and her forehead beaded with sweat before she came to a stop in front of him, doubled over.

                “I’m so glad—so glad I caught up to you,” she huffed in that annoyingly sweet, high pitched voice that she had.

                He took in her appearance with a long studied gaze. She was covered in dust, her hems crusted with dried mud; she had tears in her sleeves, leaves in her hair, and her ridiculous head covering was resting askew on top of her golden hair. Despite all of this, she was hopelessly dear, And Palom couldn’t help but crack a smile.

                “Leonara?” he asked, bending down so that he was eye-level with her.

                She reached out and gripped his shoulder with one of her slender, but strong, hands. “Why did you leave without saying anything!” she insisted, glancing up at him, her gray eyes accusing.

                Palom grimaced, not wanting to admit his true reasons.

                “I told the Epopts,” he offered a little guiltily.

                Leonara suddenly straightened to her full height, exhaustion aside. “Yes, but you didn’t tell _me_ ,” she scolded him, jabbing his collar bone with a finger.

                “I’m learning how to become a sage, not an elder!” Palom cried, trying to escape the reach of her arm and that dratted finger. “I need to travel!”

                Leonara just stared at him, then off into the trees, and then back at him again, her expression changing each time while she struggled to organize her thoughts. “So, what? You travel alone? Why would you even bother to teach me if you were going to leave me with an unfinished education? That seems rather careless for a sage _or_ an elder,” she demanded.

                _You never see things through, Palom,_ Porom’s thoughts warbled in the back of his mind. Palom garbled an expletive and sighed.

                “I’ve been attached to someone my entire life,” he complained, his voice sounding like a whine in his ears. “The chance to be on my own is liberating—exciting, even! It wasn’t as if I was never going to come back.”

                “You’re just afraid of responsibility,” Leonara reprimanded him. “You, you, you—it’s always about you and _your_ quest and _your_ abilities,” she carried on, becoming engrossed with her argument.

                “I thought I saw something special in you!” she cried. “I thought I saw a genuine teacher who could offer me a different life than what Troia could offer—a path with possibilities and friendship! You were just here for the experience, weren’t you? That brief little taste of other-ness, and once you’d tasted it, you wanted something else!”

                Palom just stared at her, brows knitted together and his expression aghast. He had traveled so many miles to _escape_ Porom, and now, here, halfway across the world he had found her _doppelganger._

                “You shouldn’t have followed me all the way out here,” he said instead, turning on his heel to walk away. _Who would come all this way just to yell at someone?_ He fumed.

                “Why not?” she asked.

                “Because it’s dangerous, for one,” he rattled off. “Two, because I like to travel on my own. And three, this is my journey not yours. You’re going to become a priestess—I thought it was forbidden for you to leave your people.”

                Leonara tossed her hair and strode after him. “Nothing’s set in stone—you, most of all, should know that.”

                He tossed her a glance over his shoulder. “Me most of all?” he inquired.

                “Couldn’t you have become Mysidia’s next Elder?” she asked. “You could have done it, couldn’t you? You have the talent, the enthusiasm—but you let it go to your sister instead?”

                Palom felt his hackles rise. “I didn’t _let it go_ ,” he hissed. “I just wanted a different life than that!”

                “Oh, so you didn’t want the responsibility,” she repeated.

                Palom finally came to a complete halt and turned to face her. “Yes. _Fine._ I didn’t want the responsibility!” he said, throwing his hands into the air. “I was tired of the speeches and the drills and the early mornings and the recitations. It was dull and repetitious and un-interesting, and I always knew that my destiny lay outside of Mysidia’s walls, anyway. Why is it such a bad thing to want something different for yourself? Why is it such a bad thing to not want to be compared to your perfect responsible sister?”

                “It’s _not_ a bad thing,” Leonara replied. “I just want you to know that you’re not the only person looking for a change in their life. So why you’re so surprised that you had such a profound effect on me that I’d like to go with you and see the world, I don’t know. Besides, I thought you knew,” she said, suddenly dropping her gaze to the ground.

                “Knew, what?” Palom asked, full of nervous energy bordering on fury, guilt, and curiosity all at once. He felt that he was on the verge of something important, and all of a sudden, he wanted to know exactly what Leonara thought and what she wanted to say. It felt like an eternity as he waited for her to speak again.

                “That I—I really like you,” she stammered out, her face brightening like a beet.

                Palom stood there thunderstruck. He had never thought—but he never--! He had only been looking for casual romance in Troia, not a lasting relationship! Besides, she was his _student._ He moved his lips but no words came out of his mouth.

                Dreams waged war with desires as his mind imagined all the possibilities. He wondered what would happen if he stayed in Troia. He wondered what would happen if he took Leonara with him. He imagined what would happen two years from now if they were still together. And then he began to panic.

                He was too young to settle on the first pretty face that declared an interest in him! He was too young to make any big and permanent decisions whatsoever. Bachelorhood had been looking pretty good to him—but even King Edge had forsaken his long-fought bachelor status and taken a wife. Even Tellah had taken a wife at one point or another. What if they had children? Would he be expected to stay and raise them? Would that mean he would have to put his travels on hold--?

                “Palom, are you alright?” Leonara was asking him, her head tilted to the side, and a worried expression splayed across her face.

                He stared at her and realized the look on his own face must be akin to that of someone who’d just witnessed the end of the world and lived to tell about it.

                “I—I have to go,” he forced out, and then ran, muttering the words to a warp spell in the process.

                “What are you doing?” he heard Leonara shout after him, outraged. He could hear her hurried footsteps behind him and her flapping sleeves. It was like fate or the universe had decided he would have to commit to something inevitably, but he was determined and he was _fast,_ and he would not be pinned down quite so easily.

                “I can’t tell you that—go back to Troia—dammit, now I have to start the incantation over—Leonara, don’t come looking for me—warp!” he shouted in one continuous rush.

                “I know your itinerary, you idiot!” he heard Leonara snap at him as he vanished from plain sight.

                “Drat,” he muttered at the last possible moment.

                His spell deposited him only a mile ahead, and Palom hit the ground running. He must have looked ridiculous, running away from only a bewildered girl; but she was more than a girl. She was more than just a student. She was practically the bloody ghost of his of future life and the symbol for everything he was trying to avoid—and he couldn’t help but wonder how long it was that he could elude her.

               “Palom, get back here!” he heard her cry pierce through the undergrowth as he continued to run.

               Not long, he conceded—though at least he had a head start.


End file.
